


What Ever Happened To Baby Reagan?

by Sr_Cupcake



Category: Blue Bloods (TV)
Genre: Child Abduction, Child Loss, Gen, Inspired by The Face on The Milk Carton, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, child kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sr_Cupcake/pseuds/Sr_Cupcake
Summary: [Plot Bunny]- UNEDITED[Crossposted on FFN]If anyone ever asked Police Commissioner Reagan how many grandchildren he had he’d say four, two girls and two boys.They don’t ask because they know.If anyone ever asked Assistant District Attorney Reagan how many children she had she’d say two.But no one asks because they all remember the image of a much younger Erin Reagan pleading for her child’s safe return as it was being broadcast through every major news station in the state.No one asks Nicky if she has any siblings. If they did she wouldn’t know how to answer.
Relationships: None
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	1. Rosemary For Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> [Plot Bunny wouldn't leave me alone so I'm posting this real quick. No real plan to continue at the moment, but let me know what you think please!]

Jack is five when he asks.

That week his teacher Sister Agnes had taught his class all about patterns. Sister Agnes had said that patterns were everywhere if you looked and she'd asked them to try and see how many patterns they could find over the weekend.

With his new knowledge Jack was quick to notice all the patterns in his life.

Monday to Friday he went to school and on the weekends he stayed home. That was a pattern. His mommy always cut the crust off his sandwiches. That was another pattern.

On Sundays they went to church and then after they all went to Grandpa's house, said Grace and had dinner. _**Another pattern!**_

Sister Agnes would be so impressed, Jack was sure to get a sticker!

But there was a problem, because there was one pattern that Jack didn't understand.

Every Sunday they went to church and every Sunday they had family dinner at grandpa's.

And every Sunday there was an extra plate at the table. But why?

If Jack thought about it real hard the plate had always been there, right next to where his cousin Nicky sat—a pattern.

But no one ever used it or ate off it or sat down in front of it. It was just there.

But _why?_

Jack went to school from Monday to Friday but not on the weekends because there was no school on those days. Mommy cut the crust off his sandwiches because that was how he liked them. They went to church on Sunday's and had dinner together with Grandpa because that's what Reagan's do on Sunday's.

But no matter how hard he tried, Jack just _couldn't_ figure out why there was always a plate at Sunday dinner that no one ever used, with a chair that no one sat in.

"You okay there bud? You look like you're about to blow a gasket."

Sister Agnes had also taught Jack that he should ask questions if he didn't understand something, so that's exactly what he did. "Daddy what's that extra plate for?"

His teacher told him there was no such thing as a bad question, but Jack got the feel that this had to have been one because all of a sudden everyone stopped talking. Forks and knives clattered onto plates and the gravy boat was stuck in the air as Aunt Erin had frozen in place as she was passing it to Uncle Joe.

No one said anything, no one did anything, they all just looked at each. Daddy looked confused, like he wasn't sure what to say. _Maybe he didn't know what the plate was for either?_

Jack was beginning to wonder if maybe he should apologize, when his mommy finally said something.

She coughed a little before picking up the bowl of green beans and putting more on his plate. "Eat your vegetables honey. You know you can't have ice cream if you don't eat your greens."

"Ice cream!" Jack said excitedly, all thoughts of his question having quickly been replaced by the prospect of his delicious sugary treat.

His mom smiled. "That's right ice cream. But if you kids don't eat your vegetables fast enough Pop's gonna eat it all. Isn't that right Pop?"

Henry Regan put on a rye smile before rubbing his stomach exaggeratedly. "Chocolate's my favorite. I don't know if I'll be able to control myself..."

At once Jack began shoveling green beans in his mouth and Sunday dinner slowly went back to normal again. Jack would've forgotten all about the plate if his mom and dad hadn't brought it up before bedtime that night.

Their faces are serious and their voices are too so the first thing Jack says is "Am I in trouble?"

"No no honey, you're not in trouble." His mom says quickly. "Your daddy and I just wanna explain about what you asked at dinner today."

"You mean the plate?"

"Yeah bud, the plate."

And so mommy and daddy explained.

The plate's for his cousin they say, and when Jack asks why Nicky needs two plates, they explain some more.

Jack has an extra cousin.

He's disappointed to learn that it's a girl, but she's about the same age as him so that's nice. Mommy and Daddy say that the plate's there for when his cousin can come to Sunday dinner. But even though mommy and daddy did a good job explaining, now Jack's even more confused.

Where was this extra cousin? How come Jack had never seen her before?

How come she wasn't at his birthday party last week and how come she didn't go to church and dinner on Sundays? It was what Reagan's did on Sundays after all.

Daddy looks sad, and again Jack wonders if he should say sorry.

His daddy explains that his cousin is lost. That's why she's never at dinner and why she couldn't come to his birthday. Because she was lost.

Now it's Jack who's sad. He'd never gotten lost before but he knows he'd be really scared if he couldn't find his mommy.

"You'll find her soon though, right daddy?" Jack's dad was a superhero after all, his grandpa and Uncle Joe too. They helped people all the time. If his cousin was lost his daddy was sure to find her.

His dad doesn't answer right away, instead he just holds him real tight and kisses his forehead. "Yeah bud..I'll find her soon."

Mommy and daddy say goodnight to him, but before they do they tell Jack not to talk about his cousin if his Aunt Erin or Uncle Jack were around because it made them sad.

Jack understands.

On Monday he tells Sister Agnes about all the patterns he found but not about the plate.

On Tuesday he asks Dad if he'd found his cousin yet. He says no.

On Wednesday he asks his mom how a baby can get lost if they can't walk. She thinks about it for a long time before telling him she's not sure .

On Thursday, Nicky's at their house because her Mommy and Daddy are fighting. Jack asks her what her sister was like. She says she doesn't know.

On Friday he asks Grandpa if they found his cousin yet. He says no and Grandma Mary looks like she's about to cry. Jack feels like he should stop asking.

Sister Agnes said if there was ever something they _really_ needed that they should pray to God for help, so come Sunday that's exactly what he does.

He shuts his eyes and asks God to _please_ bring his cousin home. He makes sure God knows that today they're having cake after dinner and that he's sure his cousin would like some and finishes his prayer with a thank you.

When it's dinnertime Jack waits, eyes darting every few seconds to the front door. He waits for his extra cousin to come through the door, so she can sit on the chair that no one sat in and use the plate no one ever used.

He waits.

He waits until it's time to go home. But no matter how hard he begged his parents to just wait " _five more minutes_ ", no one comes through the front door.

Jack doesn't understand why, but this time he doesn't ask.

* * *

Nicky's eight when she asks.

It's on one of those rare Saturday's when both her parents are home from work. For reasons she can't quite put into words yet Nicky's more comfortable saying this to her mom so she waits until her dad's gone to get out to get some chinese.

Nicky was snuggled up to her mom on the couch watching a movie, and though Erin was only pretending to watch she's still caught completely off-guard by the words out her daughter's mouth.

"Mom…"

"Hmm?"

"Is Rosie dead?"

Erin's so stunned all she can do is just sit there for what had to have been a solid minute before sputtering a "what did you say?"

Nicky doesn't say anything now, unable to meet her mother's gaze. She was old enough to know that what she'd said might not have been appropriate. But this particular question had been nagging her for a while now, long enough that it just slipped out of her.

Still not able to look at her mom she repeated herself, voice now small and unsure. "Is Rosie...dead mom?"

Now with wits about her, Erin quickly paused the Tv. She didn't wanna be having this conversation, but she definitely didn't wanna to be having it with Shrek hanging out in the background.

"What, why—why do you ask?" Erin's made sure to keep her voice even and gentle so that Nicky wouldn't think she was upset with her but the little girl still wouldn't quite look at her, only managing an 'I don't know' shrug.

"Nicky, Nicky, hey—" she gently lifted her daughter chin up with her finger. "I'm not mad I promise, I just wanna know why."

Finally her daughter looks at her with those big brown eyes that Erin loves so much and lets out a tiny "promise?"

Erin holds out her pinky in response and Nicky quickly does the same.

Pinkyswear now complete Nicky spills the beans.

It was at school she said. Some of the moms that helped with pick-up had been talking about it and Nicky heard. They said that after so long Rosie had to be dead. Nicky didn't want to believe it but she had to know.

At hearing this Erin felt herself fill a silent fury—the most deadly kind.

How dare those women gossip about something so personal. How dare they so callously dismiss her daughter's life, and how dare they be so careless as to do it where her other daughter could hear.

But Erin had been expecting this. They'd hit the five year mark. Any newspaper worth their salt had run a piece commemorating the anniversary. Some were kind. Other less so, pointing fingers and putting their two cents into " _The Mysterious Disappearance of Baby Reagan_ "

Nevermind that the Reagan family would have to deal with the emotional turmoil brought on by their front page news.

The older woman could feel her eyes beginning to well up with emotion but she doesn't allow any tears to fall. Any crying she did was always behind the safety of closed doors and away from prying eyes. She needed to be strong for Nicky she told herself.

Holding her eldest close Erin explains in no uncertain terms that those women don't know what the heck they're talking about. Her youngest is just lost. One day she'd come home, they just had to be patient.

As she says this the elder Reagan hopes to convince herself as well as the child her arms, though she'd never admit it.

When all is said and done Nicky has tears in her eyes (Erin has tears too though her daughter doesn't see them). She wipes away those tears with the base of her thumbs and makes sure her little girl knows she's loved.

By the time her husband makes it back Nicky's eyes are still red. He asks what's wrong but Erin just says they'll talk about it later. The subject was always touchy for Jack and she doesn't feel like starting an argument right now.

Hours later when sleep evades her, Erin finds her mind wondering instead to the conversation she'd had with her child and the newspaper headline that'd had met her gaze the morning previous.

News outlets always seemed to use the moniker _Baby Reagan_. They never used her actual name. It was always so impersonal, like they were talking about a character in a book and not a living breathing human being.

Still though there were times when Erin was grateful for it—as horrible as it may sound— there were times where she liked to pretend that _Baby Reagan_ was someone else's child. That it was some other parent that had to carry all the worry and the guilt over what'd happened all those years ago. When it got to be too much sometimes she liked to pretend that the dull ache in her heart was someone else's

This shameful little reprieve would've been impossible if her daughter's name were used. It would've been far too real to block out then.

Her name was Rosemary. Affectionately called Rosie, because Rosemary seemed far too big a name for a baby so small.

Erin had always called her Rosebud.

Her little Rosebud.

Due to the happy coincidence that was a shared birthday, Erin had originally wanted to name her daughter Mary Margaret, after her mother—calling the baby Maggie for short. Jack hadn't been sold on the name though and Rosemary had ended up being their version of a compromise.

Erin knew that Rosemary was a legitimate name, as well as spice. But no matter how hard she tried in those early days, the young mother felt as though she might as well have named her daughter Thyme or Oregano or something equally as ridiculous. She had been quick to latch on to a nickname as a result.

The press didn't know that. The tabloids didn't know that. They knew none of the little things that went on in their family. They knew nothing of love that they had for each other, of the dreams they'd had for their child. If they did they'd never think to give certain stories the time off day, like the kind that wondered not subtly about the Regan family's involvement in what had happened to Rose.

Journalism, by its very nature, was about cold hard facts, which Erin, as a lawyer, couldn't usually help but respect. But just this once she'd wished they'd look beyond hard truth on the paper and look at things with more compassion.

The facts are that somewhere around 70% of child abductions are perpetrated by a family member, with less than 1% happening at the hands of a complete stranger. The fact is that the last person to see a victim is the number one suspect.

The facts were that Erin was the last person to see Rosemary. She swears that she turned around for one second and Rosie was gone. But facts were that no one reported seeing anyone leave with her at the park that day.

With no phone call and no ransom, statistics—and by extension common sense— dictated that Erin had something to do with it.

It wasn't long after little Rosemary Reagan was snatched from her stroller, that both her parents had given a press conference, speaking both to plead for the public's assistance and to plead with whatever monster had taken their child.

The next morning, it was all people could talk about.

They talked about how suspicious they thought it was that Erin hadn't shed a tear during her speech, how she didn't seem angry enough, or upset enough for someone whose child was supposedly taken. They dissected every little detail, from the way she and Jack stood next to each other, to Erin's choice of dress.

It'd only been a handful of years since Susan Smith and people were all too ready to think the worst of the young Reagan.

" _If it were my kid I'd be bawling my eyes out"_

" _See how far apart those two are standing from each other, clearly there's something going on"_

" _Her grandfather's the police commissioner, of course she's not gonna get arrested"_

" _How could anyone look so stone faced when talking about their child like this?"_

Clearly someone was guilty.

What they didn't know was that the FBI had drilled it into their heads that whoever had taken Rose would be watching. No matter how upset they might be feeling they couldn't let them see. If the kidnapper saw that they were angry with them they'd become defensive. If the kidnapper felt unsafe it was likely to cause them to spiral into more dangerous behavior, placing Rose's life at risk.

Her baby was the only thing that mattered so Erin did as she was told. While on the inside all she wanted to do was scream, on the outside she'd put on a mask for the cameras, all to keep her daughter safe.

But people didn't know that.

They didn't know that as soon as the cameras were put away and she was safe in the protective fortress that was her family home, Erin had collapsed into her mother's arms sobbing like she hadn't done since she was a little girl.

They didn't know the kind of guilt she carried, because at the end of the day, no matter how much her dad or her brothers tried to convince her otherwise, Erin knew that what'd happened was her fault and no one else's.

Mother's were supposed to protect their children— _what kind of mother was she to let her daughter get kidnapped from right under her nose!?_

' _What Ever Happened to Baby Reagan?'_

Erin asked herself that question everyday, not just on the anniversary.

What'd happened to her little Rosebud?

Was she alright? Was she safe?

Was she happy? Or was she out there somewhere, crying for a mother who would never come?

Rosie would've started Kindergarten this year, what would her first day have been like?

What were her first words? Her favorite color?

Erin had been able to see what she thought were the beginnings of dimples in her baby's smile. Would she ever get to see that smile again?

Baby's change so much when they get older, What did Rosie look like now after five years? Did she take more after her husband or herself? Her hair had been such a light shade of brown, was it still that color or had it lightened down to a blonde the way it had for Jamie.

If...if she saw her daughter out on the street now would she be able to recognize her? She hoped to God the answer was yes, but she honestly wasn't sure.

Erin refused to believe that her baby was dead, but would she really ever know the truth? Did she really want to?

Wherever Rose was, did she hate her for not keeping her safe? Because Erin certainly did.

_Whatever Happened to Baby Reagan?_

Erin wished she knew.


	2. Faces

On average there are about 35 missing persons reports filed in New York City a day. All together that makes for 12,775 reports with an average of about 8,000 children reported missing in a year.

The majority of these people are found within hours of being reported missing. The majority of missing children are runaways who make their own way home eventually.

All this together made for a community that didn't think too much when a missing person poster popped in the window of the bodega on the corner or if a mother or father comes up to them and hands them flyers with big bold letters spelling out: " **HAVE YOU SEEN ME?** "

Of course it was tragic, of course they sympathize. But they weren't the police, what could they do?

So they give the poster a cursory glance, the information on it leaving their minds as soon as they'd turned away and continue on with their day. They block out the names and dates, and the smiling pictures that accompany it. Without thinking, these small tragedies are removed from their worlds. Too busy to notice, too preoccupied to care.

Of course this sounds awful and no respectable person would admit to such behavior, but you could see it in the way people looked at the homeless. They were a fact of life, an ugly fact of life. One you ignored graciously by taking special care not to make eye contact, turning a deaf ear to the poor destitute as they held their hand out to you for help.

They don't see it and they fly past without a word.

Linda Reagan wasn't like that.

Whenever a homeless person tried to talk to her she'd make sure to smile, looking them in the eyes as she'd answer back. After all, it must be terribly lonely when the whole world decides to pretend you don't exist.

Whenever they hold their hands out for a dollar Linda gives it to them, she kept singles in her wallet for that very reason in fact.

There was of course the argument that she was just helping them pay for beer or drugs. There was no denying that a great many of the homeless population suffered from addiction, but it was also no denying that everybody needed to eat, everybody needed access to water and clean clothes. Everyone deserves a chance, so Linda gave without a second thought.

She got to know the regulars who sat on the corners of the streets she frequented. She didn't know everything about them but she knew all their names, which she prided herself on.

There was Morgan who desperately needed a haircut and a shave, but who always seemed to have a flower crown ready for when Linda walked by.

Gabe, a giant of a man who always called Linda 'Miss' and asked after her family. Terry, with a face full of freckles and a gap in her front teeth that you only ever really saw when she smiled, which she did a lot. There was also Bean, Terry's big mutt of a dog who made people quick to cross the street but who was more likely to lick you to death than he was to bite.

And Jason, the youngest. Linda didn't really know how old he was, but he had a baby face that made her feel like he could have been anywhere from 18-24. He'd formed a habit of calling Linda 'mom' after she'd 'babied' him by asking if he'd eaten that day one too many times. She didn't mind.

If you asked Linda Reagan why she went out of her way to do these things she would think of no other answer other than "well why not?" It was part of what made her a good nurse, her capacity for empathy and compassion for a complete stranger.

The thing to remember was that they weren't strangers. Everyone you meet is known to someone. Everyone had a story, with lives and family and loved ones who know them.

_Everyone is somebody to someone._

If it were Jack or Sean who was hurt or out on the street Linda would want them treated with respect. And it was with this in mind that she went about her day asking people "How can I help?" No matter who they were.

So she looked homeless people in the eye and listened when they talked, she helped where she could, even if it was just a dollar. Because if it were her loved one out there that's she hoped others would do.

Linda also looked at missing person's posters; really looked. Every one she passed, no matter where she was, she looked. She committed all the information on it to memory and burned the face in the photo into her brain before going out into the world.

Whenever she visited homeless camps on her days off with food and extra blankets—a habit that made Danny nervous but one that he didn't fault her for—she looked everyone in the eye as she searched through her memory to see if she recognized any of the faces on the posters. It was often she came up empty. But those few happy endings she did manage to play a part in made it all worth it.

She did this because she hoped others would do the same; _needed_ others to do the same.

She looked out for the faces of strangers in a crowd because somewhere out there she hoped someone was doing the same for her niece.

In the years since Rose had been taken much had changed. Some changes were good, some not so good, but the one thing that hadn't changed was the hope that one day Rosie might make it home. If the Reagan family was honest with themselves they'd admit that this hope was misguided. But that was the thing about hope, it didn't always have to make sense.

Linda kept a copy of Rosie's most recent missing person poster at her work. She knew Danny and Jamie hanged their own copies at their precincts for everyone to see too. _The Center for Missing and Exploited Children_ had age-progressed the photo on it to what Rose might look like at age 9. The photo was outdated now but all the information on it was the same as it had been all those years ago. Linda didn't have to look to know what it said:

**Rosemary Reagan**

**Missing from:** _Slope Park Playground in Brooklyn_

 **Date Missing:** _Sept 23, 2000_

 **Age at time of Disappearance:** _5 months_

 **Hair Color:** _Lt. Brown_

 **Eye Color:** _Brown_

 **If you have any information please call:** _1-800-843-5678_

_–_

Linda looked at every poster she passed because she cared.

She cared about two year old **Christopher Dansby, Missing Since:** _May 18, 1989,_ who was last seen in a park on 114th Street and Lenox Avenue.

She cared about 19 year old **Stevie Bates, Missing Since:** _Apr 27, 2012,_ from Manhattan

She cared about **Milo** **Gibson,** a freckle faced 15 year old, red headed boy who went missing from his grandparent's house in Queens.

She cared about **Rosalie Russo,** a dimpled cheeked 13 year old brunette who went missing from her foster home in the Bronx

She cared about **Olivia Olsen** , a 13 year old blonde with glasses who went missing on her way to school in Brooklyn.

She cared about all of them because she knew that behind every poster there was a family member or loved one who was hoping beyond hope just like the Reagan's were, for someone just like Linda to help notice that one face in the crowd.

She cared about all of them because she knew that behind every photo you saw on the street was a real live person. A person who deserved to come home safe just like Rosemary did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I go I feel I should mention that the statistics at the start of the chapter are real. 
> 
> Christopher Dansby and Stevie Bates are also real people/real missing persons cases that I encourage you guys to look up if you feel so inclined. 
> 
> The number at the end of Rosemary's missing person poster is also the real number for the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children


	3. Big Brothers & Little Sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small edit to the last chapter:  
> Rosemary was meant to be a few months older than Jack but a quick look at the wiki told me I'd mix up their birth year so I adjusted the date on her Missing Person poster

* * *

Let it never be said that Daniel Fitzgerald Reagan did not love his little sister. Sure they butt heads, sure he drove her crazy sometimes, but whether it was beating up bullies on the playground for her when they were kids or being there for her now that they were adults there was nothing Danny wouldn't do for her.

Because that's what big brothers were for.

Danny could still remember his grandpa sitting him down to explain it to him. "Being the oldest is a big responsibility," Pop had said. It was Danny's job to look out for his little siblings, keep them safe. Because that's what big brothers do.

"But," Pop added, "You gotta keep a special eye on your sister. Because girls are different; they're special. They need to be protected."

If Erin were to hear Pop say this now it was likely that she'd feel a little bit insulted. She could take care of herself just as well as any of the Reagan boys could, she didn't need protecting. And Danny knew that.

But Danny also knew that the world was different for Erin than it was for him. Women like Erin had to worry about walking home alone late at night or be following from a night out or some guy thinking they can do whatever they want. Women like Erin had to worry about the scum of the Earth who'd look at her and see an easy target.

Danny knew his little sister could look after herself. But it was his hope that she would never have to. So Danny took care of Erin's playground bullies, and when she got older he sat through Sleepless In Seattle and took care of boyfriends that made her cry. Because he was the big brother and that was his job.

But there was one time Danny couldn't keep his little sister safe and it ate him up inside. He could remember the day so well you'd think it happened yesterday and not over a decade ago:

It was a Saturday, just before lunch, when he got the call. His Sargent doesn't say much, and it makes Danny nervous. All Gormley says is that he needs to get down to Slope Park ASAP. He wasn't not prepared for the scene that meets his eyes.

There were more cop cars than there had any business being at a kid's park, and the first horrifying thought that crosses his mind is that there's been a shooting. But he knows that isn't right because for all the squad cars there are, there isn't a single ambulance.

Though he had no idea what was going on, Danny ran ahead with a sense of urgency, hoping to find someone in charge that could tell him what was going on, when something caught his eye. Or rather, someone. "Erin? Out of my way, I'm a cop, I'm a cop! Erin!"

He felt a bit like Moses trying to part the Red Sea, but eventually he was able to make his way over to his sister. She was crying and Danny was so stunned by this that he wasn't able to make heads or tails of what she was trying to tell him. "Erin, Erin what's going on?" Danny asked, trying to get his bearings, "What happened?"

"I-l can't find Rose! Someone's taken her Danny, someone's taken my baby!"

There were more tears and Danny had to hold Erin up to keep her from collapsing, all while feeling like someone had just knocked the wind out of him.

A lot happened at once then. Danny ran on autopilot, not letting his emotions go because he knew his sister was counting on him. His dad and Pop and Joe must know what's going on by now, so the first thing he does is call Erin's husband for her. There's so much going on she hasn't had a chance to call him herself yet, and Danny doesn't think she could hold a coherent conversation yet anyway.

Jack doesn't pick up and Danny leaves a scathing voicemail that says in no uncertain terms that his brother-in-law is to get his sorry ass over here as soon as possible.

He calls his mom next. There's a chance she knows already too, but he has to make sure someone's coming to sit with Erin. He calls but the house phone just rings and rings. It could mean mom's on her way already...or maybe she's just out and has no idea what's happening.

He debates it for a while but he decides not to call Linda. She'll rip him a new one for it later, but Danny decided it was for the best. Linda was pregnant, on bedrest and ready to pop, it seemed any day now. He wanted to keep his wife and unborn son safe at home.

With no idea just when the Reagan family cavalry would arrive, Danny takes charge. He made sure no less than three rookie cops are watching Nicky like a hawk and he takes Erin off a ways to sit on a bench with him and calm down.

It's like their roles are reversed, usually it's Erin who has to tell him to take a breather and Danny didn't feel like he was doing a very good job of it. He wished Joe were here, he was always better at that sort of thing. Instead Danny fell back on what he knew he was good at: police work.

He asked what happened. Who was around. If Erin saw anyone suspicious. Danny doesn't like what he hears. Not because it's bad but because there's just nothing there, nothing to work with, no lead to work off of.

Erin had taken her eyes off Rosemary for a minute or two tops. Nicky had gotten into some kind of an altercation with another kid on the playground and she'd sprung into action to separate the two. By the time she and the other kid's mother had gotten the two toddlers to apologize to each other and Erin had walked back to the bench, Rosie was gone. Erin hadn't seen anyone or anything suspicious. The park was full of little kids and their parents, no one looked out of place.

In those days Amber Alerts were new. So new in fact, they wouldn't become standard across the U.S for another three years. But even if that hadn't been the case there wasn't enough information for one anyway, with zero description of a potential abductor or the vehicle they might be using. Babies are so nondescript at that age that at a glance they all tend to look the same, so a description of Rosemary isn't much help either in the grand scheme of things.

It wasn't looking good, they were flying blind, but Danny didn't tell his sister this.

"I'll find her Erin, I swear I'll find her."

Dad shows up, then Joe, then Mom, and finally Jack.

Together the three Reagan men lead a perfectly textbook sweep of the area. The sea of uniforms fanned out and questioned passersby, they knocked on doors, they searched apartment buildings, they brought in dogs; but they found nothing.

No one saw anything, no one saw anyone, no one had the slightest clue where Rosemary was. It was like she'd vanished. But Danny knew that that was wrong. No one can just vanish, someone somewhere had to know something, so he carried on, all the while remembering the promises he'd made.

—

Danny was nothing if not a man of his word. But things take a turn when the canine unit finally finds something.

Rosie's blanket had been discovered in a back alley dumpster. They had to call Erin in to verify that it was hers. The blanket wasn't something common you'd find in a store, it was handmade. The name 'Rosemary' had been carefully stitched right on it, courtesy of Mary Reagan herself. Danny, Erin, Joe and Jamie had blankets just like it when they were babies. Nicky had one too and Jack would have one ready for him by the time he was born.

Danny wished they'd let him verify that the blanket was his niece's, if only to spare his sister the fresh wave of anguish that washed over her at the sight of it.

They find the blanket in the dumpster but they don't find a body. It was a hollow victory but a victory nonetheless and the Reagan family needed every bit of good news they could get, especially once they brought Erin in for questioning.

_"You're a lawyer aren't you Mrs. Reagan-Boyle? That's a pretty stressful job. It can't have been easy, having to juggle your career, your little girl and a new baby. It's enough to drive anyone over the edge. Hell, I know my kids get on my nerves sometimes. I could understand if you lost control. Maybe Rosemary just wouldn't quiet down for you that morning and you got a little angry. Maybe there was an accident..."_

_"The thing is Mrs. Reagan, no one can tell us they physically **saw** your baby prior to her disappearance. You had her in her stroller and covered up by her blanket the whole time, why is that? It was a perfectly sunny day. A little vitamin D's good for babies isn't it….Could it be possible that Rosemary never actually made it to the park?"_

Danny knew this was standard procedure. He knew that if the shoe was on the other foot he'd be the one asking these same questions, but that didn't stop him from being angry.

How dare they try and pin this on Erin. How dare they try and insinuate that his little sister would ever hurt her baby. It took every ounce of control he had not to burst into the interrogation room and pummel the detectives who couldn't have been more wrong. But Danny was stuck on the other side of the glass as they tore into Erin, they all were. None of the Reagan's were allowed on Rosemary's case, as family they were all too close to the situation; yet another standard procedure that would serve to haunt the family.

The most any of them could do was speak out on Erin's behalf to the detective in charge and corroborate what she'd said.

Yes, Erin's job _was_ stressful but so were lots of people's jobs and they didn't do that sort of thing. She would _never_ hurt her baby.

Yes, it was just as Erin said. Rosemary _had_ just gotten over a cold. It made perfect sense that she'd want to keep her covered up. There was nothing suspicious about that.

"You're going after the wrong person. You're wasting time we don't have!"

Eventually they leave Erin alone but not before the relentless questioning leaves its mark on her. She'd already felt guilty about what'd happened but now those feelings had reached a whole other level. She scrutinized every decision she'd made that day, just as the detectives had done, agonizing over why she hadn't done this or that differently—why she hadn't noticed what was going on.

Danny had tried knocking some sense into her, they all had, but nothing could convince her. He didn't truly understand it until Jack was born.

There's a saying that says women become mothers the moment they find out they're pregnant, while a man becomes a father when he holds his baby. Danny thinks there must be some truth to this because, while he'd certainly loved his son beforehand, the moment he'd first held Jack in his arms had been indescribable. Danny didn't think he could ever love anything more. He'd never forgive himself if anything were to happen to his child, nevermind something like what'd happened to Rose.

"I'll find her Erin, I swear I'll find her."

Danny had meant those words, and he'd meant it when he'd promised Pop to look out for his sister. But despite his best efforts Danny had failed. He hadn't protected Erin, and thirteen years on he still hadn't found his niece. But one day he'd make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a piece of additional information:  
> Amber Alerts were started in honor of nine year old murder victim Amber Hagerman in 1996. The roll out of the program itself was slow and by 2001 only four states had Amber Alert systems in place. It wasn't until April 30, 2003, that President George W. Bush signed the PROTECT Act, which provided the tools necessary to create a national AMBER Alert program.


End file.
